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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067355">Brothers And Sisters, I Am Deceased</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler'>noodlerdoodler</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hargreeves Appreciation Week [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Hargreeves Deserves Better, Ben Hargreeves Lives, Doomed Timelines, Gen, Multi, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Other, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:01:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben supposed it only made sense that he give a eulogy, since he’d not only been Dad’s favourite (generally agreed on by the siblings) in childhood but was also the best spoken out of all of them. The best with words. Usually, when he pressed a pen to paper, Ben had no issues getting the stories to flow. Now, he fumbled, drawing a blank, and looked around for inspiration. </p><p>His eyes fell on Vanya’s memorial. </p><p>Ben licked his lips, “I don’t have anything left to say to him that I didn’t already when I left.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves &amp; The Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves &amp; Vanya Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hargreeves Appreciation Week [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy, The umbrella academy</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Brothers And Sisters, I Am Deceased</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was no way of mistaking it, Ben was nervous to see his siblings again. </p><p>It had been over a decade since they’d all lived under the same roof, more if you counted Number Five, and was coming up to two decades now. Slowly, then all at once, their family had crumbled right in front of his eyes. None of them had any reason to live in that gloomy old house once the glue that held them all together, the baby of the family, had gone. No, not gone, died. His therapist insisted it was important Ben accept that she was dead, not just gone. Something to do with closure, accepting her death as real. </p><p>Little baby Vanya had been the kindest, gentlest, and sweetest out of all of them. When she'd... died, shocking the world by finally revealing her existence as the seventh member of the Academy, there was nothing to hold them together anymore. What was worse was that Vanya's death was the most recognition she'd ever gotten. Nobody had cared the slightest bit about her when she was alive. </p><p>The guilt started to devour Ben from the inside-out. </p><p>Quickly, he had jumped at the chance of escape and fled to New York City to make a life for himself outside of the Academy. Ben had been desperate to get away from it all and couldn't let the opportunity slip out of his hands. He’d already been having doubts about being known as ‘The Horror’ for the rest of his life, tired of people crossing the street when they saw him coming and whispering about him behind their hands. Moving to New York, just like all the characters in his books did when they wanted to remake themselves, had saved him from a life as a soldier. </p><p>But he knew that his family might not have forgiven him for running away. </p><p>The Academy looked exactly the same as it had when they were kids, which sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. Just looking at the imposing building, it felt like he’d never left. Like the last sixteen years were nothing more than a fantasy he’d lived out in his head and he was just a little boy who'd played runaway for a few hours. Deep breath. Ben steeled himself before pushing open one of the front doors, his footsteps echoing through the house as he walked across the marble floor. </p><p>Somebody turned to greet him and a wave of love washed over him, “Allison!”</p><p>“Hey, Ben,” His sister looked great, all things considered, and didn’t hesitate to open her arms for a hug. She was still wearing her tired look, no doubt still going through the wringer dealing with her divorce and custody struggle, and the hug seemed just as necessary for her as it was for him. Gratefully, he fell into her arms and thought that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be as bad as he’d thought. Allison’s warm hand pressed into his neck, familiar and comforting. It had been <em>so</em> long since anyone in his family had hugged him.</p><p>When he pulled back, Ben asked gently, “How’s Claire? Have you heard from her recently?”</p><p>Out of all his siblings, Allison had been the only one that he’d kept close contact with. It helped that she was regularly splashed across the front of tabloids, so that he could keep up with her personal life over a cup of coffee. Not that you could believe everything you read in those rags. The divorce though... He knew firsthand that it had been rough for her. Especially being kept away from her daughter. </p><p>“Not directly. I know Patrick will be taking good care of her though, so I'm not worried,” Shaking her head, Allison let out a low sigh, “I just miss her. I didn't even know it was possible to miss a person this much. How’s Jill?”</p><p>“Good!” Ben was delighted that she’d remembered, despite her packed schedule and busy life, “She’s studying for finals. When I get back, we’re taking a trip abroad. Hopefully meeting my birth mother if I’ve tracked her down by then.”</p><p>“Wow, Ben, that is so exciting,” She seemed genuinely pleased for him, if a little bittersweet.</p><p>For as long as he could remember, Ben had wanted to meet the woman that had given birth to him. Days after he'd been born, his mother had given him up to Reginald Hargreeves in return for a decent payment- and he wasn't bitter about that. Whoever she was, she hadn't set out to raise a baby. But he still wanted to meet her, speak to her, find out what she was like. He couldn’t really explain why he had such a fixation on it or why it was so important to him. While his family was unconventional, he did already have a set of parents, as well as Dr Pogo, and five siblings. So, it was hardly as if Ben was desperately searching for the family he didn’t have, like most orphans. He wasn't lonely. </p><p>It ran much deeper than that- he wanted some kind of real connection, to find his place in the world. Growing up here, with no idea of where they came from, might’ve been okay for the rest of them but Ben had always longed for roots, culture, and history. So had quiet Vanya, before she'd passed away. The pair of them wanted to be more than the Umbrella Academy. Some of his siblings treated him like a traitor for it.</p><p>“You have no right to be here,” Diego slipped past him, (speak of the devil), in a blur of black spandex, “Not after what you wrote about us in that book of yours.”</p><p>Absentmindedly, he wondered if Diego wore that outfit in the bedroom and decided that he probably didn't want to know the answer. His brother considered himself a vigilante of sorts- like a C grade Batman- and spent his nights patrolling the streets, dressed from head to toe in black with a set of knives. While Ben understood wanting to reinvent oneself, he'd never quite been sure why Diego had decided to reinvent himself as the superhero that Dad had always wanted them to be. What point was he trying to prove exactly? </p><p>“Way to dress for the occasion,” He retorted instinctively, and was flipped the bird for his efforts. </p><p>Ah, yes, he wondered when they’d get to the book. <em>The Horror: My Life As Number Six</em>. </p><p>When Ben had set out for New York, he had dreams of becoming a fantasy writer and creating the kind of books that he’d obsessed over as a kid. He wanted to provide the sense of solace for today's kids that his favourite authors had provided for him. It didn’t take long for that dream to turn to dust in his hands: none of his books were getting picked up by publishers. They were “well-written but nothing extraordinary”, his rejection letters often told him, and in a sense of desperation to get his start, Ben turned to the one thing about him that was extraordinary. His autobiographical novel about being in the Umbrella Academy became a bestseller overnight.</p><p>And who could blame people for being curious about them? Reginald Hargreeves had been deliberately secretive and reclusive, refusing to let the world know much about the children or what their lives were like. Nobody had even known that there was a Number Seven until they'd held a funeral for her. Dad had refused to expose their secrets. So, Ben had done it for him. </p><p>Nowadays, his fiction was finally taking off, now that he’d made a big name for himself. It was easier to sell books when everybody knew who you were- especially when your childhood had inspired several fantasy novels in itself. There were no more rejection letters bitterly stuffed in his desk drawer. Instead, he collected fan letters, from children out there who felt they were outcasts, just like him. He'd achieved his dream. </p><p>He’d sent his father and siblings several copies of his books. Diego had returned the packages, unopened. </p><p>“Don’t worry about him,” Allison slung an arm around his shoulders, “Let’s go find Klaus.” </p><p>Oh, Klaus. He’d tried his best to stay in touch with Klaus over the years but it had been made pretty difficult by the fact his brother didn’t have a phone number, a fixed address, or even a place to sleep most of the time. He bounced between shelters, libraries, bus shelters, benches, and rehab like a rubber ball. Several attempts at trying to convince with Klaus to move into his New York apartment, so he could get clean, all fell flat. Sometimes, Ben would receive emails from the public library computers asking for him to wire some cash over. Sometimes, he did just to make sure Klaus could eat. Most of the time he didn’t, feeling too guilty about enabling his brother’s drug habit. </p><p>Him and Allison took turns paying for rehab, bouncing checks back and forth. In return, Klaus would do a month-long stint (usually) and then promptly turn around and buy heroin from the first person offering. The last time he’d seen Klaus was when he overdosed and ended up in hospital. He’d been deathly pale, soaked in sweat, and mumbling for Vanya. He didn't even seem to see Ben sitting there. </p><p>It had been nearly ten years since Ben had flown over to sit and cry at his brother’s bedside. </p><p>“Klaus?” They found him upstairs, in dad’s office, rummaging through his belongings. No doubt, he was looking for something valuable to pawn. </p><p>While he had started out smoking joints in the attic room, desperate to escape the ghosts that lived in his head, Klaus had quickly spiralled into a full-time addict. There was nothing he wouldn't do to fund his habit, to chase that high he so desperately needed. Even if it meant stealing from their family home, selling old Umbrella merchandise, or having sex with a total stranger. Honestly, sometimes it hurt more to watch him fall apart than it had been to watch Vanya die- at least the latter had been quick. </p><p>Springing up from behind the desk, Klaus had flung his arms around both of them in turn, “Ben! Allison! I was hoping I’d run into you guys, so I could get your autographs,” He bounced on his toes, clapping his hands, “Add them to my collection!” </p><p>“Did you just get out of rehab?” Ben clocked the hospital band on his wrist. </p><p>“What? No, no, this, it’s, nooo… Actually-“ Fumbling in the pockets of his patchwork coat, Klaus drew out a dog-eared book and waved it at them, “I wanted to say well done, Benny. Much better than your other stuff. I appreciated the shoutout!”</p><p>It was a copy of his newest book, featuring a man who could commune with the dead. He’d be lying if he said that traces of his family, his siblings especially, didn’t run through all of his books. Without even realising it, Ben had found himself drawing on his family for inspiration whenever he hit a creative block. None of his readers seemed to notice. Or maybe they did and that was exactly why they read them. Like his autobiography, his books provided a glimpse into his bizarre life. Once, when he’d been doing an interview with a magazine, Ben had been asked if there was any particular reason his villains always seemed to sport a monocle. He’d managed to laugh it off. </p><p>“At least someone likes them,” Ben shrugged, looking away.</p><p>“Oh, Diego? Don’t worry about him, he’s just pissed about his inheritance probably,” Klaus pulled a silly face, (in spite of his flaws it couldn't be denied that he'd always had Ben's back), and waved a hand towards the window, “Did you guys come down for the funeral?” </p><p>Allison nodded, looking at him curiously with one hand on her hip, “Why else would we be here?”</p><p>She had a point. None of them would've come back to this sad, old house if they didn't have a good reason. Even when Ben had heard the news, saw it splattered across the front page of a newspaper in a coffee shop he frequented, he wondered if it meant he had to go back to the house. After all, he wasn't close with dad anymore and only got along with two of his siblings. Going back to his childhood home meant being reminded of everything he'd tried to run away from. Jill had to talk him into it in the end. </p><p>“I just came down here to see the old man was really dead,” He threw himself into the armchair, resting his feet on the desk, “And he is! Yay!”</p><p>“None of us would be allowed in this room if he wasn’t, you know that,” Ben said, which made his brother laugh. </p><p>Likely, Klaus would’ve done his stunning impersonation of old Reginald if they hadn’t suddenly been interrupted by a flash of blue light outside the window. It was accompanied by a loud crashing noise, as if someone was steering a freight train directly through Ben’s brain, and Allison rushed to the window to see what was going on. Some kind of threat? Some kind of attacker? A burglar? Dad had a lot of enemies, most of which knew his house would be unprotected right now. Ben was already out the door, taking the stairs two at a time. </p><p>Rushing out into the courtyard, he found himself faced with a rippling wave of blue light, pulsing in the middle of the sky. It wasn’t obvious what it was but Luther said something about a temporal anomaly or a black hole- of course, nothing could ever be easy. Not even a funeral. Pounding footsteps from behind him caught his attention and Ben turned in time to see his brother hurl a fire extinguisher into the… Whatever it was. </p><p>Someone demanded to know, “What was that supposed to do?” </p><p>“Do you have a better idea?” Klaus waved his hands in frustration. </p><p>“Everybody get behind me!” Luther said, as the anomaly seemed to grow in size and seemed to shift. It looked almost like a mouth that was about to spew something onto the ground. The noise grew louder, more like the crackling of electricity than a roaring sound now, and Ben couldn't stop himself from clamping his hands over his ears. Allison pushed past him, the last one out of the house, so that she could grab onto Luther's hand. That made five of them facing whatever came through the portal, (it seemed like a portal), which seemed like a fair fight. </p><p>Diego echoed: “Yeah, get behind us!” </p><p>Couldn’t they save their macho competition for later? Apparently not. Ben didn’t hesitate to back away from the anomaly, shielding behind his brother’s huge form- that was something he was definitely going to have to bring up later- and felt somebody grab onto his arm. Klaus was clinging to him, his eyes wide, and Ben squeezed him tightly as if to say <em>I won’t let go</em>. Not that his brother was paying him much attention, staring up at the sky and muttering to himself out of the corner of his mouth. </p><p>As they watched, a shape was beginning to form in the sky, almost like a person’s face, and seemed to be trying its best to crawl through the portal towards them. The blue light seemed to snap its mouth shut, the wind dying down abruptly, as something fell from the ground: a person. The person landed with a thump on the ground, pushing himself up quickly to get to his feet. He looked bemused.</p><p>Seconds dragged by before Ben spoke up, “Does anybody else see Number Five?”</p><p>"Thank god, I thought it was just me," Klaus muttered, still attached to his side, and there were murmurs of agreement. </p><p>Standing there, looking bedraggled in a suit much too large for a thirteen year old boy, Five frowned directly at him. He didn't look a day older than when Ben had last seen him, when they were thirteen years old and Five had leapt up from the dinner table and disappeared. Except... There was a colder, stonier look on his face now. As if he'd seen things that the rest of them couldn't even begin to comprehend. It was chilling to meet his intimidating gaze and even worse when he opened his mouth to ask: </p><p>“Where’s Vanya?” </p><p>It seemed fitting that it was raining during the funeral, (could it really be called a funeral when all they were doing was scattering their father’s ashes?), and that they all had to gather under umbrellas. Some kind of pathos. The Umbrella Academy, reunited at last, and under umbrellas at that. Dad would’ve loved it if he was there, said something about the binds tying them together being stronger than their differences- but according to Klaus, their father’s ghost was nowhere to be seen. He was probably in hell, where he belonged. They were all a little grateful. </p><p>Ben huddled under his brother’s obnoxious pink fluffy umbrella and tried not to inhale the smoke from his cigarette. Smoke made him cough and wheeze but his brother seemed to find it comforting, his fingers still jittering a little from whatever pills he'd tossed back a few minutes ago. If it made Klaus feel better about the batshit situation, Ben didn't feel ready to take that away from him. </p><p>"I really don't have time for this," Their brother drawled, always the busybody. </p><p>Seeing Number Five standing across from him, looking exactly the same as when he’d left, was completely bizarre. He'd even changed into his old uniform, knee socks and all, which was an eerie reminder of the past Ben had tried so hard to bury. One hand was holding a plain black umbrella, while the other was stuffed in his pocket. The expression on his face was thoughtful, his brow creased, until he looked up and met Ben’s eyes. </p><p>Then, Five just looked irritated to find him staring.</p><p>Gracefully, Luther tipped their father’s ashes onto the floor of the courtyard, “Probably would’ve been better with some wind.”</p><p>“Would anyone like to speak?” Dr Pogo asked, glancing around at all of them, “Ben?”</p><p>Eyes flicked to him automatically. Klaus threaded his arm back through his and he was grateful for the support, as he mused over what he could possibly say. Ben supposed it only made sense that he give a eulogy, since he’d not only been Dad’s favourite (generally agreed on by the siblings) in childhood but was also the best spoken out of all of them. The best with words. Usually, when he pressed a pen to paper, Ben had no issues getting the stories to flow. Now, he fumbled, drawing a blank, and looked around for inspiration. </p><p>His eyes fell on Vanya’s memorial. </p><p>Ben licked his lips, “I don’t have anything left to say to him that I didn’t already when I left.” </p><p>They'd all been there to witness the argument, the first time that Ben had ever stood up to their father. </p><p>Reginald hadn't wanted him to leave. Ben argued that he'd end up like Vanya if he didn't. </p><p>His father had delighted to remind him that Vanya's death had been <em>his</em> fault.</p><p>“He was a monster,” Diego’s gaze was distant, his eyes fixed on the ashes, “He was a bad person and a worse father.”</p><p>Still clutching his cigarette, like it was a lifeline, Klaus started laughing. Other than that, nobody said anything, all of them standing in near silence and listening to their brother laugh wheezily. What more could possibly be said about their father? Ben looked around to see what his siblings were thinking but all of them deliberately avoided his eyes, Luther's fixed on the ashes and Allison's on the statue. When his gaze reached Five, his brother looked back at him with a frown on his face.</p><p>Never one to be particularly adept at reading the room (courtyard?) Five didn’t seem to be able to stop himself from piping up. He never broke eye contact with Ben the whole time he spoke. </p><p>“But why is Vanya dead? She shouldn’t be dead,” He didn’t seem able to accept it. </p><p>That made sense. It had been hard for anyone to accept that Vanya had died, even those that had seen it happen right in front of their very eyes, because it just seemed impossible. Not only had she been a delicate little creature, more interested in her violin than she was in roughhousing and crying whenever they stepped on ants, she'd also been completely powerless. Unlike the rest of them, she had no ability or anything to make her special. She wasn't even allowed to be the lookout on missions, instead staying with their father.</p><p>After Five had disappeared, leaving no sign of where he had gone, Vanya had wept silently for hours at a time. When she thought they were all asleep, she would creep around the house and turn the lights on for him. She liked to leave snacks out for Five, as if he was Santa Claus, and withdrew more into herself when it became obvious he wasn't coming back. Nobody knew what to say to her. </p><p>“She took it hard when you left. We all did,” Ben cast a look at him, careful to keep blame out of his voice. </p><p>Scowling at him, Five jumped somewhere, his umbrella falling to the ground and rolling across the courtyard. Ben assumed he was heading back inside, presumably to ignore the rest of them, because he hated funerals, birthdays, weddings, the lot of it. Saw them as a waste of time. Big emotional events weren't for Five and he had told them all firmly as a child that they shouldn't ever invite him to anything because he simply wouldn't come. Allison had kept an empty chair for him at her wedding anyway. </p><p>To Ben’s surprise, his brother reappeared after half a second with a battered book in hand. He was ashamed to admit that he initially assumed it would be one of his books and felt his heart sink when he didn't recognise the cover. Triumphantly, Five held the book out so that they could all see it: on the front was a picture of Vanya, sending a pang through Ben’s chest, peeking out from under her bangs and smiling shyly. <em>Extra-Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven</em>, shouted the front cover, <em>by Vanya Hargreeves</em>. It didn’t make any sense. </p><p>“Is this your idea of a sick joke?” Diego demanded, advancing towards him with fire burning in his eyes.</p><p>Five just rolled his eyes, “I found this in the apocalypse. In the library. Vanya wrote it.”</p><p>“No, Ben’s the writer in the family,” Allison corrected him, ever so gently, “Vanya died when she was little. It was after you left, so you weren't there. I can understand if you might find that hard to accep-”</p><p>“This isn’t right! Vanya didn't die!” Five snarled, jumping again. This time, he didn’t come back.</p><p>But he didn’t need to explain to Ben what he already knew.</p><p>Even decades later, Vanya’s death still haunted him every minute of every day. The therapy had helped numb the pain, push it to the back of his mind, but the memory was always sitting there, waiting for him to turn his attention to it. All he had to do was close his eyes to watch it unfold again. Like playing a movie reel inside his own mind.</p><p>A mission, suddenly gone awry. Luther was out cold, Diego bleeding heavily, and Allison was tied up. There was no sign of Klaus anywhere- god only known where he'd gotten to. Their father... he had no idea but it didn't seem like he would swoop in to save them. Maybe if there was a distraction, maybe if he got them a few seconds, that would be enough time for Allison to wriggle free or Luther to blearily open his eyes. For Klaus to race into the room. Making a snap decision, Ben knew that he had to sacrifice himself that they needed to save the world. The choice came to him with surprising clarity and he felt calm as he accepted his fate, racing forward into danger.</p><p>If only Vanya, little powerless baby Vanya, hadn’t appeared out of nowhere and shoved him out of the way at the very last minute.</p><p>He’d always known he should’ve died that day- not Vanny. No amount of therapy had convinced him otherwise. </p><p>And here was Five, confirming his suspicions.</p>
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